I am not afraid of the storm.
Or of the wildness of the winds.

I am not afraid of the darkness.
Even my nightmares
Have little power to frighten
Any more.

I am not afraid to die.
There is very little mystery left.

what is left?
You may be wondering

that may be a conversation
For another day

I shine only because you make it so.
I fly only because beneath my wings
your wind blows.
I speak only because you are my words.
I hear and your name is the most beautiful
I've ever heard.
I breathe only because you are my every breath.
You are my life...you shall be my death.
But even in death, we shall not part.
For you are the only reason I love...
the only reason I have a heart.

Do not wait for things to happen
Get at it and take action
Be the one with that extra fire
Fulfill your world with satisfaction
Make your spirits bright
Continue to climb that ladder
You have the knowledge and ability
To make your vision sharper

Ease your way into the day.
Being Mindful is the way they say.
Focus on Now, we don’t have long.
Meditate or sing a song.
For ten long years it’s been pipe and slippers (without the pipe),
And Ages have passed since we were nippers.

Slowly we all fade away,
For time cannot be held at bay.
I wonder what it’s all about,
There has to be another way out.
We die like flowers according to science,
There is no alternative to our compliance.
We may or may not be ruled by God,
But so long as I live I don’t give a sod.

Easy days and a set routine.
Do my best to keep my house clean.
Nice pub lunches four days per week,
A peaceful living is all I seek.
You may say I’m set in my ways,
But I’m contented in my twilight days.

Paul Butters

There is a kinetic  c e l e b r a t i o n
throughout the entire universe--
both known and unknown;
  each molecule a universe to itself-

a world interconnected;
of sub-atomic celebrators
filling all time and space
perpetually valuing value itself

Value--
who, at its prime core
is in itself
the self-celebration
of hope/value= Love- (tagline) #healing

    and it is everywhere.
                  Yet, we.. are unaware.

Loving words
  (all that is real)
align with the celebration-
   of the kinetic-heal

and they pick up the magic
(the receivable rendition)
allowed into the receiver
through the act of volition

and suddenly we become aware.

••••


I am  melting  into   you--

and in the blend   of us
I am finding   the
c l a r i fi c ation      of me--  a
process  until today

I never believed in.

Once rolling alone
I am finding
the word  h o m e
in everything  
    that     you do

    e v er y- t h i n g.
          
                              -by paulSN

Is it that some are too slow at
Learning wisdom or is it that
Others are too slow at learning
Patience?  Both fail at being
Godly-For God is both wise
And patient; and war is that
Grand Illusion that trumps
The hopes  of glory that is
Not to be as an apple tree
That bears no fruit nor has
It roots and is never real but
To make the gifts of God to
Be  as if all in vain and not
Known. Yet it never was so
Where love is we know It
Is  and know there is not
Another better-for He who
Is one and both lives forever
His children believing know
Two- that He is truth and life
One and both. Not death but
Victory.  We know of no end
To His Wonder and His Peace.

This is my last ride
I pray thee,
If I go one more round
I could waste away with the tide

This is my last ride
I pray thee,
If I go one more round
My carpals would bruise from ice

This is my last ride
I pray thee.
My body craved...
Gone are the days of my pride
Now I'm saved

This is my last ride
I pray thee,
My muscle ache
This serves me no snort and pancake
All I have the devil has come to take

This is my last round
I will lavish no more Pound
My soul is saved, heaven bound
I hear heaven choir, glorious sound

OD

Images extracted from
the tapestry of my dreams.
Sewn intricate...
Into a patchwork.

A quilt,
embroidered with lavish sequins and ornate beads.
Bringing forth fantastical motifs...
A dazzling display
upon the backdrop of my dreamscape.

Yet...
This mosaic of dreams
does not warm me so.
It never lasts.

They fall away like autumn leaves
come the dawning sun.
They get washed out and pulled into the tide,
as the waves beat upon the shore of wakefulness.
They fade into fragmented memories
that make no sense...
Incoherent and disjointed.

Eventually, they disappear...
For they do not belong
in a world of worldly things
and ticking clocks.
Their intangible and mismatched nature
render them inconsequential...
Naturally...
They get misplaced.

But I am stubborn.

I will fashion such a blanket.
One that skirts the boundary
of this realm and the other.

I will tailor it so...

So that...
I will sleep tonight,
swaddled tight and cocooned within its
glorious seams.
Tucked within the safety and warmth of
this blanket...
Woven immaculate...
Out of
worldly things and breathtaking dreams.

The moon, a hollow
Saint Jacques shell,
whose kernel
lovers
and language figures
had wasted through the flow
of time,
came
to this eerie pond
a dry vagabond -
now a dweller
of the surface deep.

© LazharBouazzi, Carthage, TUN, September 3, 2016